


Lay all you want on me

by ember_firedrake



Series: Let me see you in your darkness [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Dom/sub, Kink Discovery, M/M, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:44:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6570286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/pseuds/ember_firedrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I have an exceptionally low tolerance for pain. I'd say anything to make it stop."</p>
<p>An alternate take on 1x03 where Flint decides to punish Silver for stealing the schedule, and both of them are unprepared for their reactions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay all you want on me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistflarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistflarden/gifts).



John Silver sat in the chair in Eleanor Guthrie’s office, trying not to appear either too nervous or contrite under everyone’s scrutiny as he finished writing and passed the portion of recreated schedule to Mr. Gates. The room felt hot with so many people present, and the open windows and breeze did little to relieve the heat of the day. He absently fiddled with the quill in his hands. The paper rattled as Gates passed it to Captain Flint, who gave the sheet a cursory examination. 

“Where's the rest?”

“Beg pardon?” Silver tried to appear ignorant.

“The Urca has a planned stop to take on water somewhere on the coast of Florida. That's the point where they're most vulnerable to attack...This describes a course that ends miles short of the coast. Where's the rest of the course?”

The look Flint leveled at Silver said he knew exactly what Silver way playing at, and Silver reminded himself of the brutality he'd seen Flint unleash on Singleton just yesterday. “Well...I can't exactly write that down, can I?” 

“Why not?”

“Well, you all seem rather angry with me. Especially you,” Silver added, when Eleanor's stare went cold. “And if I were to write it all down, then what's to stop you from killing me right here?”

Silver knew he had taken a gamble last night, but given the choice he would much rather be reasoning with Captain Flint now than with Vane. This way he might still get something out of the deal. 

“I say we bring Joji in here,” Billy said. “He'll have it out of him in 10 minutes.”

Fear prickled at Silver, though he had considered this possibility. “Torture won't help you.”

“You haven't seen Joji work.”

“No, I mean I have an exceptionally low tolerance for pain. I'd say anything to make it stop,” Silver said. He pressed forward with his argument. “But there may be a more mutually beneficial solution to all this. What if I were to remain with your crew? It makes sense. I forgo payment for the schedule in exchange for my share of the prize. You proceed with your plan.”

Something twisted in Flint’s features, and he leaned forward on the desk. “You? Remain with _my_ crew?”

Silver swallowed, unsettled by the glint in those green eyes. He wondered if it was worth it, putting himself in this position for the chance at a future prize when he could eliminate all danger now by simply revealing the full schedule. But at the cost of any winnings. “It's a thought.”

The ginger mustache curled upwards in a cruel smile, and when Flint spoke it wasn't directed at him, though his eyes never left Silver. “Miss Guthrie, may I borrow your office? I would like some privacy to deal with our thief.”

Silver swallowed, quite certain in that moment that the last thing he wanted was to be alone in the room with this man after having crossed him. Eleanor Guthrie seemed to hesitate, Mr. Scott appeared very displeased, and Silver could sense Billy tensing beside him, though no argument issued forth. Gates, whatever his reservations, remained silent. Finally, Eleanor said, “Very well.” 

Eleanor and Mr. Scott left the room, and after a look from Flint, Gates and Billy left as well. “Wait for me downstairs,” Flint ordered, before they shut the door. 

Flint strode around the desk and crossed the room to lock the door. Silver's pulse pounded in his throat, and for a wild moment he contemplated leaping through the open window in spite of the rather long drop. It was like being in the room with a wild animal, with no way of knowing where it could strike next. Perhaps he'd made the incorrect gamble, last night at the wrecks. 

“Stand,” Flint ordered, his tone suggesting disobedience would not be tolerated. “And drop your trousers.” 

“Now wait just a minute—” Silver scrambled to his feet, facing Flint. “I was being serious when I said torture won't work. I ramble. I'll say anything. You'll never be able to tell what's true and what's not.”

His throat was tight and fear had made his body tense. It hadn't occurred to him that Flint might want to exact violence or torture simply for the sake of it, and after watching the battle with Singleton, Silver was painfully aware of his own odds against Flint. Flint, who now leveled a fearsome smile at him as he removed his coat. He pushed his shirtsleeves up, then removed the rings on his hands. 

“I never said anything about torturing you,” Flint said, his voice deceptively even. “But you are a thief, and now you are asking to be part of this crew, to take advantage of _this_ prize. If you wish to be a part of my crew, Mr. Silver, then you will submit yourself for punishment. Now...lower your trousers.”

It was a test, Silver realized. Prove he was willing to be treated as one of the crew, and obey orders and accept punishment. More than that, it was a message. Silver's actions, though they had not been maliciously intended at the time, had humiliated Flint in front of his crew and business partners, and this was how they would settle that score. That did nothing, however, to alleviate Silver's nerves as he unbuttoned his trousers and bent to push them down. 

“Turn around,” Flint said. “Brace your forearms on the desk.”

The position left his bare ass completely exposed. The wood of the desk pressed against his forearms, and Silver gritted his teeth against the disquietude filling him. He would prove a point to Flint, that he could, and would, accept this. Maybe then Flint would agree to his proposition. 

Even with some measure of anticipation, the first smack took him completely by surprise. He had expected a switch, maybe a belt, not the bare palm of Flint’s hand. Heat bloomed on his skin in the wake of where the blow had struck, and Silver let out a shaky breath through his nose. He spared a moment to glance back at Flint, whose face was a mask of impassivity as he drew his hand back again.

Silver faced forward just as another smack landed on his skin, and he couldn't contain the grunt that emitted from his throat. His skin flared with pain, and despite his conviction to weather this punishment with dignity, Silver felt his face burn with humiliation. He was bent over a desk, having his bare ass _spanked_ , and it was difficult to maintain composure in the face of that. Difficult to bear this silently when Flint’s entire aim was to discipline Silver’s actions.

A blow struck his other cheek, and Silver gasped. The pain heated his skin, only this time it was followed by a tingle, a prickling that seemed to emanate from the misused area. The next two smacks sounded loud to Silver's ears, but the _pain_ —there was something different about the pain. It dragged a groan from his throat as his head sagged forward over the desk. 

Flint’s blows came down erratically, his palms striking with no particular rhythm, their unpredictability maddening. Silver's entire backside felt like it was throbbing, and he could only imagine how red it was. Each new blow wrung a cry from Silver's throat and brought a fresh wave of pain, and with it that tingling sensation increased. 

Confusion clouded him. What was happening to him? It had only been a slight exaggeration, what he'd told Flint about his tolerance for pain, so why then was it not affecting him the way he expected? The blows _hurt_ , certainly, and he hardly thought Flint was holding back for his sake. But there was something more to that pain, a strange undercurrent that set his whole body alight, and Silver realized with a rush of awareness that it was no longer humiliation making his face flush. 

He was _hard_ , harder than he could ever recall having been before, even when those women had all been servicing him. His cock hung heavy between his legs, and from Silver's upside-down vantage point—his head pillowed on his forearms—Silver could see the tip was glistening. 

Flint’s palm struck him again, and this time the noise it brought forth from Silver was a moan, long and broken as his hips hitched against empty air. “ _Fuck_ ,” Silver grated out, his voice sounding wrecked to his ears. 

Silver felt strange. Waves of pain and pleasure seemed to shiver along his skin, and he was heady from it, drunk off the feeling. It took him several moments to realize Flint had not spanked him for some time. Slowly, trying to suppress the shudder coursing through his body, Silver lifted his head to look back. 

Flint seemed frozen in place, gazing upon Silver with some undefinable combination of expressions. There was shock there, confusion, _hunger_. But something else, too. Something that was almost...vulnerable. Could it be—Flint had been affected similarly? Silver was curious. Silver felt reckless, the sensation of floating having overtaken his body. But more than that, Silver _wanted_ , a strange desperation filling him the longer Flint hadn't touched him. 

“ _Fuck_ me,” Silver groaned, rolling his hips again. 

Though it had partly been on account of the pain, the moment he said it he realized he badly wanted it. He shivered, imagining Flint clasping hands over his reddened flesh, opening him up with slick fingers, then fucking into him with long, driving strokes. The very thought of Flint’s thighs slapping against the marks he'd left was enough to make Silver whimper. 

If anything, that seemed to snap Flint from his reverie. His face shuttered, the mask falling back into place, and he gave a derisive snort. “You'd say _anything_ to make the pain stop?”

Silver wanted to protest that he'd been speaking in earnest. He wanted to prove his sincerity, but Flint was already moving away, stepping around until he stood on the opposite side of the desk. He was distancing himself, both figuratively and in a very literal sense. The desk between them may as well have been a canyon.

“So, tell me more about your proposition to join my crew,” Flint said. His voice sounded detached, but there was an oddly strained note to it. “How do I benefit from taking on a known thief as part of my crew, and one who has crossed me personally before?” 

Silver, for his part, was trying to adjust, the abrupt shift in tone leaving him flustered and confused. How could Flint just sit there, pretending as though Silver was unaffected by what had happened? Need thrummed in Silver's veins, and he wanted so badly to touch himself and relieve some of that pressure, but Flint was looking at him as if he expected an answer. 

Slowly, trying not to grimace from both the pain and his neglected arousal, Silver shifted until it was no longer his forearms but just his hands braced on the desk. That brought his face more in line with Flint’s, and gave the illusion, however delicate, that this was an actual parley.

“When the time comes for me to reveal the last piece, I will be right by your side,” Silver reasoned. “If what I tell you is in any way incorrect, well, you can do with me what you will.”

The innuendo was intentional, and Silver allowed the promise in those words to hang there, between them. Flint caught the meaning as well, judging from the way his eyes darkened, but he didn't take the bait.

“And when the Urca's ours, what's to stop me from killing you anyway?”

Silver swallowed, but pressed on, undeterred. “Well, that's a few weeks from now, isn't it? We might be friends by then.”

Flint gave him a smile that was nothing short of predatory. He said nothing, but the smile seemed to indicate more than enough what Flint thought of _that_ idea. He stood again, and Silver held his breath, hoping Flint would touch him again, finish what he'd started. Even if he was just going to spank him more, that would be worth it. The very thought of having Flint’s focus on him and only him filled Silver with a strangely powerful rush, given the compromising nature of his current position. As Flint stepped around the table once more, Silver could not help the shiver that passed through his body. 

Flint stepped close, close enough that if Silver closed his eyes he could almost feel the heat from the proximity of his body. He waited for his touch to come down again, whether gentle or harsh. 

“You may want to compose yourself, Mr. Silver,” Flint said, his voice low, curling into Silver’s ear. “We’ll have company again in a moment. You don't want to get caught with your trousers down.”

Silver's eyes flew open, the shock of that like a bucket of cool water on his senses. Flint was already moving away, crossing the room towards the door, and Silver hastened to stand, swaying a moment on unsteady feet, before he reached down to grab for the trousers pooled around his calves. He couldn't suppress the hiss that escaped him when the material dragged over his ass—the fabric was not coarse by nature, but it could have been burlap for how Silver's skin protested the touch. 

When Silver looked to Flint, there was a strange flicker in his expression again, as though he felt some measure of regret for having to interrupt this. Silver felt the flush creep back into his cheeks when he realized Flint’s eyes had drifted down to Silver's erection, pressing against the material of his trousers. It was only when Flint turned to open the door that Silver realized he had not been entirely unaffected by what had happened—he was hard as well—but whatever opportunity there was to do something with that information was lost as Flint opened the door, calling for the others to return.

Silver sat down too quickly, his body protesting the pressure on such a sore area, but he needed to disguise the state he was in. As the others filed into the room once more, Flint explained Silver would remain with the crew until the gold had been retrieved. There was a moment’s tension where Silver thought Billy or Gates would argue, but it was Eleanor who said “I guess it will have to do.” The conversation drifted to matters of guns and consorts and other manner of ship’s business Silver didn't care about. Flint would glance at him occasionally, but it was distant, only in passing.

Silver was too busy thinking on what had happened. Wondering how soon he would be able to have some privacy so that he might bring himself off and relieve some of this tension. Wondering at this strange need he felt, which he knew Flint to some degree felt as well, though he denied himself. Wondering if, before the Urca gold was found, he would have the chance to explore that further. 


End file.
